Physics of X Episode 3: The Challenge of Suffering

People have struggled with the nature of evil and suffering for as long as we have records. These are not easy topics as they are both personal and difficult to think about. They range from questions of “Why do good people suffer?” to “Why does suffering seem to be ‘built into’ reality?” to “Why do people do horrible things to each other?” and many more. Obviously, in a short blog like this, I will not be able to address everything on this topic. But to help focus the discussion, I will consider an issue that seems to be prevalent in public discussions of faith and science and also shows up in The Dresden Files. This is the general question of “How can a loving God allow suffering at all?” or another version, “How can God care for us given all that we know about the universe?” In focusing on this topic, it is important to emphasize that I do not intend to trivialize or minimize anyone’s personal experience of suffering by speaking in more general terms, or by attempting to offer a “rationalize” for the existence of suffering.

As always, for a short video introduction to this topic, check out the YouTube video below.

For context, I am going to take a particular episode from the Harry Dresden book Small Favor as my starting point, so this is your spoiler warning. When Michael Carpenter, a Knight of the Cross, is hospitalized and in critical condition, Harry Dresden finds himself in the hospital chapel. After having a conversation with God where he questions God’s involvement and willingness to let a clearly good person suffer, he ends up in a follow-up conversation with an archangel, Uriel, on the topic. In the course of this conversation, Harry points out that given how big reality is, why would God care for something so insignificant as what happens to one person on one small planet (I paraphrase here!)? I am going to save Uriel’s response for the end of the blog and address the challenge of good people (or anyone) suffering and its connection to conceptions of God, reality, and faith first.

When it comes to considering the intersection of suffering and belief in God, there is a classic philosophical argument known as the “logical problem of evil” that purports to establish the logical inconsistency between an all-loving, knowing, and powerful God and the existence of evil. The argument basically goes like this. If God is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving (or sometimes all-good is used), God would be able to prevent the worst suffering. Basically, God would know about it (all-knowing), not want it to happen (all-loving), and be able to stop it (all-powerful). Since the suffering occurs, God must not exist (or at least a God with these characteristics). This can feel like a very powerful logical argument, but in fact, it is not. It is a very powerful emotional argument.

There are plenty of examples that one can point to where the suffering of an individual or group of people feels completely unjust, and we would all agree it should not happen. This is why the above argument is such a powerful emotional argument. However, as a logical argument, it has a fundamental flaw—it assumes we know what all-powerful, all-loving, and all-knowing are! In this case, the definitions of the concepts “all-X” are actually part of the logical outcome, rather than providing an independent definition of “all” that then leads to the inconsistencies.

It should be clear that none of us are all-powerful or all-knowing. That is pretty much the definition of us being finite human beings. Here is the crux of the problem. Since we are clearly not all-knowing, what can we start with? In contrast, I would also argue that we are not all-loving either, but of the three, I think most of us would argue we have a sense that we know what all-loving might look like. Basically, we extrapolate from what we want an “all-loving” God to be — and a lack of suffering certainly feels like a reasonable part of that. Hence, the conclusion of the logical argument is built into the definitions of “all-X”.

Avoiding the problem of defining “all-X” is one reason I prefer to focus on the concept of the “fullness of reality” rather than God, as it tends to clarify these issues. In a very real sense, the fullness of reality is the one thing that must be “all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving”. This basically is the definition of “everything” (fullness of reality) and “all-blank” (maximum of blank).

The second piece is to consider elements of the maximum, or “all-ness” of reality. It is clear that at least part of reality — physical reality — involves change. And, by definition, any reality in which change occurs must also have some level of suffering. Basically, change, by definition, involves loss. To go from one state to another, you have to give up something about the reality of the initial state to be in the reality of the new state. And as humans, loss always presents some level of the experiences we equate with suffering, however small. Therefore, the challenge is not the traditional “logical problem of evil” but rather understanding what it means for the fullness of reality to exhibit maximal love (be all-loving) when at the same time a part of that reality involves some level of suffering. (There are also questions of free will, but that will be the subject of a later post.)

Placed in this context, I propose that Harry Dresden gets to the real heart of the problem of evil and suffering in his discussion with Uriel. It is not whether or not an all-loving God exists. It really comes down to whether or not the maximal amount of love — the fullness of reality — actually cares about me! Or, as Harry says, “I mean, this whole universe, right? All those stars and all those worlds, … Probably so many different kinds of people out there that we couldn’t count them all. How could God really care about what’s happening to one little person on one little planet among a practically infinite number of them?”

When phrased this way, we realize why this is an emotional, intuitive, and/or spiritual question, and not fundamentally a logical argument. We have to approach this with humility and remember that we are not all-knowing, so even with a conceptual definition of “all-powerful” and “all-loving”, we can not really know what they mean. The example of the connection between change and suffering highlights that “all” does not really mean “anything.” Instead, it means “anything that is possible.” For example, “all-powerful” really cannot mean “able to do anything.” There are things that just cannot be done, like creating something that is both a stone and not a stone. So, the best “all-powerful” can mean is the ability to do everything that is possible. And if a world with change and no suffering is not possible, then the best the fullness of reality (God) can do is contain a physical reality with the amount of suffering consistent with the amount of change that is required “to be all-good”. Likewise, “all-loving” certainly includes achieving the minimum amount of suffering, but without being all-knowing, we cannot know what that is.

It is this challenge of defining “all” that is at the heart of why the major religions that I am aware of all conclude that suffering and evil are mysteries (in the deep, mystical sense). They are not problems that can be solved, but realities that we must figure out how to live with. And this is the heart of Harry’s question. Not “Why is there evil and suffering”, but “Does God care about me?” There are variations in the approaches to Harry’s question and to living with the tension of belief in an all-good God despite the reality of suffering and evil. For the Judeo-Christian religions, the answer to Harry’s question is a definitive yes — God loves us and wants a relationship with us specifically. And for most religions, living with the reality of suffering involves a level of detachment (a very specific spiritual practice). I completely acknowledge that in the face of great suffering, these revelations and understanding of how to live in a world with evil may fall short. But, I also think it is important to understand the difference between a valid emotional response to suffering and a faulty logical argument.

This brings us back to Harry Dresden and his discussion with Uriel. When Harry questions how God could care what happens to any individual, Uriel points out that Harry has it backwards. Uriel says:

“Well, I have never been to much school, you understand. But seems to me that you [are] assuming something you shouldn’t assume. … That God sees the world like you do. One thing at a time. From just one spot. Seems to me that He is supposed to be everywhere, know everything. … Think about that. He knows what you’re feeling, how you’re hurting. Feels my pain, your pain, like it was His own. .. Hell, son. Question isn’t how could God care about just one person. Question is, how could He not.”

Again, this view makes the most sense when you move from God as just another powerful being that is part of reality to recognizing God as the fullness of reality. Then, as Uriel says, God is everywhere and knows everything by definition. For me, Uriel’s framing is worth serious reflection and provides a deep insight into the nature of reality. As with most responses to the mystery of suffering, it is not an easy answer, or not even really an answer to the question we often ask. Uriel even admits to Harry that it is “More optimism than you want to hear right now.” But it is a powerful statement about the potential implications of reality being all-knowing and all-loving by definition and therefore God being all-knowing and all-loving — and always caring for and about us no matter what.

Originally posted on Medium.